


the end of all things

by mikhailoist



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, M/M, Slow Burn, a lot of people are going to die, do not take that character death tag lightly, this is not a nice story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29545770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikhailoist/pseuds/mikhailoist
Summary: The earth has been ravaged by the undead, and Ian is a survivor fighting for his life. In a world like this, only one thing has ever really mattered: family. You look out for family first, and leave everyone else to fend for themselves. That's how it's always been.And then he meets Mickey.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just something i wrote for fun during a week-long power outage and i don't really know what it is tbh. i've never really written anything like this before but i've binged 10+ hours of TLOU walkthroughs and zombies are all i can think about rn lmao so here you go
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** a lot of the zombie terminology i used comes from other pieces of media (like TLOU & TWD) so i don't take credit for it!! i'll define some of these words at the end of the chapter :)
> 
> i hope you enjoy the fic ily  
> \- ezra

**SUMMER**

The night brings with it a clear sky, void of any clouds or even the slightest glimpse of starlight – just an endless stretch of darkness overhead. It’s as if the rest of the universe has abandoned this place, Ian thinks, solemnly turning his gaze upwards. His eyes search for the smallest of constellations, the thinnest sliver of moonlight, any sign at all that the Earth hasn’t been completely drowned in shadows. He knows logically that the rest of the universe is still out there, that this is just one of those nights that feels quieter and lonelier than others. Logically, it’s just hard to see the stars in a city like this one, where tall buildings reach up towards the sky and block out the light of the moon. And yes, he knows the moon is there, too; yet on nights like this one, he can’t help but feel like it has also abandoned them, like it’s no longer pushing and pulling the tides, like everything on the planet that was once in perfect balance with their neighbors in space has been left at a standstill. 

Ian lowers his eyes back down to the city streets in front of him, which are just as silent and empty as the world above. Shadows curl around the edges of buildings and crawl towards him, as if threatening to suck him into total blindness. He’s used to it, this thick, heavy darkness. His eyes adjust slowly, and he can see the bricks on the buildings, the cracks in the pavement. He glances to his left, then to his right, where he spots out of the corner of his eye a rat, darting past him and down along the edge of the street. Ian pays the small creature no mind. There are bigger things to worry about than rodents repopulating the barren streets of Chicago. He scans the area one last time before reaching for the handgun on his belt and holding it out in front of him, making sure to keep his finger on the trigger as he stalks toward the building up ahead.

There’s a slight breeze in the air, enough to make the hairs on his arms and legs stand up and send a chill down his spine. He’s constantly throwing glances over both shoulders, feeling completely exposed to the horrors of the night. No matter how many times he makes this trip into the city, and no matter how many weapons he has at his disposal, it’s never enough to make the fear go away, not completely. The fear of what’s out there, waiting for him to make one wrong move, to let his guard down for even a second. It doesn’t matter how prepared he is, or how well he can fight – no human will ever truly be a match for what the world has come to. He thinks of all the people he’s seen fall victim to evil, and when that pain surfaces in his heart, that feeling of loss, he holds onto it. It keeps him alert. It’s those memories that keep him going, eyes and ears wide open, as he creeps stealthily up to the building where Lip had told him to meet. A warehouse. He pushes the door handle, and it swings open with ease, left unlocked just as his brother promised it would be. 

As soon as Ian is inside, he shuts the door as softly as he can, careful not to wake anything that may be lurking nearby. He searches for anything he could use to block the door, and quickly decides on an old desk he spots a few feet away. The wood is rotted and gray, and the desk is not nearly as heavy as he’d like it to be, but it’ll have to do for now – and anyways, Ian doesn’t plan on staying here that long. The plan is to meet up with Lip, get what they need, and get out. No distractions, no detours. He pushes the desk up against the door before turning and heading deeper into the warehouse, past long shelves and giant crates and boxes that have been empty for years. Survivors cleared out all the food that was stored here years ago, along with any other tools, weapons, blankets, or clothes that might have been kept in this warehouse once. But Ian isn’t here for any of that. He’s got clothes on his back, dirty as they may be, as well as a gun, several knives, and a backpack filled with rations that’ll at least last him the trip back out of the city. What he needs right now is much more important than that.

As he makes his way to the back of the warehouse, he catches a whiff of something eerily akin to the stench of death, and his heart drops into the pit of his stomach. He glances down at his feet, and even in the darkness, he sees a discoloration on the floor that he hopes to God isn’t blood (but knows, realistically, that’s definitely what it is). He tightens his grip on his gun, willing his hands not to tremble with fear, and presses himself up against the nearest row of shelves. He keeps his footsteps quiet as he follows the blood trail, which twists and splatters across the entire aisle. He prays to whatever all-powerful being that might still be out there that his brother is okay, that all this blood and the smell of death nearby doesn’t mean what he’s most afraid of. When he reaches the end of the aisle, he takes a deep breath before turning the corner and raising his gun, ready to shoot down whatever’s waiting for him.

“Jesus!” He hears a voice – a familiar one – and when Ian’s eyes make out the figure standing in the shadows, he recognizes it as Lip standing there, unharmed. His brother had been digging through the contents of a cardboard box when Ian approached, and now he has his hands lifted in the air, looking startled but also mildly amused.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Ian accuses. He lowers his gun, his heart rate already returning to normal.

“Imagine how I feel,” Lip teases. “Just standing here minding my own business, and suddenly my brother is pointing a gun at me.”

“I saw blood,” Ian says. “And that fuckin’ _smell—”_

“Just a walker,” says Lip, gesturing to the area behind Ian. “Nothing to worry about. I took care of it.”

Ian turns around to look, and sure enough, he sees a dead body slumped against the wall. Well, he could call it dead, but it had already been dead before. The decaying skin and rancid smell filling the room is enough to make that clear. The walker, as they call them, used to be a person – months ago, maybe years – but when Lip fired a bullet through its skull, it had merely been a soulless corpse with only two instincts: to kill or infect. There are places all over its body where the skin had torn off and Ian can see bone, and it has pores all over its arms and legs that still ooze this old, sickly blood, which must have been the reason for the mess all over the floor.

“You’re good, right?” Ian asks, turning back to face his brother. “It didn’t… you know—”

“Ye of little faith,” Lip says, rolling his eyes. “Son of a bitch didn’t even come near me. You’ve gotta stop worrying so much, Ian. That’s _my_ job.”

Ian can’t help but smile. Even though they’re living in a literal hell on Earth, Lip still acts the way an older brother should – an annoying asshole at times, maybe, but also just, well, like a brother. It’s another thing that he finds himself holding onto for comfort, support. He thinks he would probably go insane without it.

“You find what we need?” Ian asks, walking up to his brother’s side and peering into the box.

“I think so.” Lip holds up a couple bottles of pills and shows them to Ian. It’s hard to read the label on them without much light, but they look legit enough. Ian takes one of the bottles and rolls it over on his palm.

“You think these will help her?” he asks quietly.

“Well, we know she’s not infected,” Lip says. “I mean, it’s just a fever. So these can’t hurt, right?”

Ian nods. They’ve got another family member back home, one who’s needed medicine for a while now, and he hopes this will be enough to fix her up. He hands the pill bottle back to Lip and turns around so his brother can stuff the stolen medicine in his backpack. While his brother has a pack of his own, it’s filled to the brim with weapons, more than Ian has ever deemed necessary to carry, but that’s Lip for you. He’s always been the fighter, the weapons provider, the one tasked with protecting his family by any means necessary. That’s why they always do runs like this: Lip ventures out into the city first, well-armed with the number of knives and guns he carries (the rifle strapped to his back really pulls the look together, Ian thinks), and Ian follows an hour or so behind him. Any walkers that may have been in his path are easily cleared out by Lip, who never really seems to be as afraid as Ian feels. Their strategy has worked out so far so good, especially during these past couple of months. This part of the city has been pretty walker-free for a while. There are always a few stragglers here and there, which is why Ian isn’t too worried about a single lone walker in the warehouse. For the most part, there’s been an odd sense of safety – though Ian doesn’t let that lower his defenses. Everything could change in a matter of seconds, and he knows it. It’s happened before, anyway.

Once Lip has the pills safely secured in Ian’s pack and zips it back up, they carefully return to the front of the warehouse, side-by-side, each armed with a handgun. They make it to the entrance without any more walker encounters, and after easily pushing the desk back out of the way, they head outside into the cool night. Even with the slightest bit of light from a moon that Ian can’t seem to spot in the sky, it’s hardly any brighter out here. He and Lip glance at each other and exchange a nod, ready to tackle the stretch of the city together as they make their way back home – or, at least, the place that they’ve made their home for now.

And that’s when they hear it.

A gunshot, tearing loudly through the air, not at all far from where Ian and Lip are standing.

“Fuck,” Lip whispers. “There’s someone else here.”

There’s another gunshot, and then suddenly, the voice of a young man, shouting out a very loud and very frustrated, “Get the fuck away, you goddamn pieces of shit!”

Ian casts another look at his brother, whose eyebrows have shot up in surprise. Neither of them expected to hear any other people out here tonight. In fact, for the last year or so, their family has been the only other people they’ve seen for miles. They thought they had the entire city to themselves.

There’s another gunshot, followed closely by another series of swear words. Judging by the fact that Ian can hear everything clearly, this other person can’t be more than a block away from where he’s standing right now.

“We should help,” Ian says, already lifting his gun and heading towards the commotion.

“Ian!” Lip hisses. He reaches out and grabs his brother by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “This isn’t our problem. We should just go. Whoever this is can take care of themselves. He wouldn’t still be here if he couldn’t, right? He’d have died a long time ago. Come on.”

“I can’t just walk away from someone who might need help,” Ian retorts. “That’s not who I am.”

“Listen,” says Lip. “I know you had this childhood dream you’re still holding onto about being an EMT or some shit, but that’s _never_ gonna happen, you hear me? The world doesn’t need EMTs or doctors or anything like that anymore. The only thing that matters is fuckin’ family, and we look out for ourselves. So we need to _go,_ before the walkers or whatever the fuck is over there gets to us, too.”

Ian meets Lip’s eyes. He knows his brother isn’t trying to be an asshole right now, and he agrees on some level that their best option is to run, to get out of here as fast as they can and survive. But he can’t push aside the feeling that the person over there needs help, and he’s literally only a few yards away. All Ian would need to do is show up and fire a few bullets and he could _save_ someone. If he didn’t, that loss would be on his shoulders for the rest of his life. It doesn’t matter if he knows them personally or not. He’s lost too much already, and if he can prevent someone else from dying at the hands of a fuckin’ walker, he will.

Another gunshot fires through the air, and Ian makes his decision.

“Family _is_ important,” he says. “But the rest of humanity is important, too, and there’s so few of us left, so I’m gonna fuckin’ do what I can to make sure this one doesn’t die.” He yanks his arm away from Lip and takes off running before his brother can stop him. He hears his brother mutter an irritated _“goddamnit,”_ but the sound of footsteps right behind him lets Ian know that Lip will always follow him into battle anyway.

They hurry to the end of the block as fast as they can, and when they round the corner next to an old grocery store, they see him – a short, dark-haired man with his back up against the side of the building, firing at the walkers that are approaching him. No, not walkers. _Runners._ They’re the same kind of undead creature, but faster and stronger. There are two of them, though there were maybe six to start with, Ian notices, his gaze passing over the bodies on the ground. This guy clearly knows what he’s doing, but at this point, he’s probably low on bullets, and now there are runners coming at him from both sides, speedy quick and hungry for living blood.

One runner approaches the man from his left, and he shoots at it, the bullet tearing right through the center of its head. Its skull explodes, raining blood and chunks of rotting skin all over the pavement as its body slumps to the ground. Breathing heavily, the man immediately looks to his right, where another runner is darting towards him. The space is closing quickly, and Ian’s heart is pounding in his throat, because for a second it looks like he isn’t going to make it – but then he throws himself out of the way just in time, firing a bullet as he crashes to the ground. He misses – understandable, considering his position – and now the runner has stopped in its tracks, dazed and confused as it blindly searches for its target. The undead rely on their hearing to find their prey, but now the dark-haired man smartly presses his body flat against the concrete, keeping his breathing as quiet as possible so the runner can’t find him. He still hasn’t noticed Ian and Lip standing nearby, and has his gun held out in front of him, waiting for the right moment to take the next shot. The runner stumbles around, its limbs jerking at awkward angles, and it groans desperately as it searches for the human it so badly wants to shred to pieces. 

Ian uses this chance to jump to the man’s rescue and shoot at the runner. He doesn’t have the best trajectory path from where he’s standing, so the bullet hits the undead bastard in the shoulder. Startled, it turns around and faces him, attention focused on a new target, which is exactly what Ian needed. He uses the opportunity to fire the killing shot, square in the center of its forehead. The bullet rips through its skull, nearly splitting its face in half, and Ian watches as it falls down, now permanently dead and joining the rest of the decaying bodies littered across the grocery store parking lot.

Ian holsters his gun and jogs up to the young man, who is now pushing himself up off the ground. His jeans are torn at the knees and there’s a little bit of blood on his skin from where he fell, but he looks otherwise unharmed. At the very least, he looks uninfected. Ian offers him his hand, but the man ignores it, opting instead to grunt in pain as he helps himself to his feet.

“I had that handled,” he mutters. The lack of gratitude takes Ian by surprise.

“You _could_ just say thank you,” Ian suggests. But the man doesn’t say thank you, nor anything even remotely close to it for that matter. He just lifts his gun and points it at Ian, who immediately throws his hands up in the air. The man’s eyes dart untrustingly between him and Lip. Despite the less than ideal circumstance, Ian can’t help but notice how blue this stranger’s eyes are, piercingly bright against the darkness of the night. Almost like stars.

“Who are you?” the stranger demands. He sounds angry, defensive, though Ian tries not to take it personally. Living each day from one battle to the next can really do a number on a man’s ability to trust other people.

“Your knights in shining fucking armor, apparently,” Lip sneers. The man shifts and points the gun at him. Ian’s brother puts his own hands in the air, but he doesn’t look afraid of the stranger. Just annoyed.

“Lip, calm down,” says Ian. The man aims his gun back at him, but Ian is starting to sense that he doesn’t plan on shooting either of them, not really. It’s just a defense mechanism. He gets it. Whoever this guy is, something in his past must have broken him badly, and now the only way he can feel safe is if he keeps his hand on the trigger of a gun at all times.

Or he could just be an ungrateful asshole. Both options are up in the air right now.

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Ian says to the stranger, keeping his voice as level as possible. “My name’s Ian, and this is my brother Lip. We came into the city to get some medicine for my niece. She’s really young and sick with a fever.”

“She infected?” the man asks.

“No,” Ian says. “Just a normal fever. But she still needs us to help her. So if you could just let us go, we’ll be on our way and you’ll never have to see us again.”

It must finally register that Ian and Lip aren’t the enemy, because the stranger slowly lowers his gun. His guard is still up – Ian can tell that much by the tension in his movements – but there’s something else there, too. Ian can see it in the trembling of his hands and the all-too familiar look in his eyes. _Fear._ This man is terrified of something. Of what, Ian isn’t sure. All the undead nearby have been taken out. The three of them are safe now.

Right?

“Listen,” the stranger says. “My sister – she was here, but there were too many of them, you know, so she led them away from me, went deeper into the city. If you could help me find her, we could get you both safely out of the city, back to your niece. I know a way. A shortcut, if you will.”

“We really need to get back—” Lip starts, but Ian shoots him a glare. His brother presses his lips together in a firm line, and the look in his eyes shows he knows exactly what kind of choice Ian is about to make. The younger brother glances back at the dark-haired man.

“You know which way she went?”

“That way.” The man points to a cluster of buildings on the other side of a nearby street. “When the horde came at us, she was able to distract about half of them and lure them over there. That was maybe ten minutes ago. I know she can handle herself, but there were a lot of them, and I just need to know she’s okay.”

“You seemed to hold your own just fine here,” Lip remarks, nodding to the scattered bodies on the ground. “Why do you need our help?”

The man narrows his eyes. “I don’t,” he snaps. “But I’m low on ammo and we don’t know how many more runners are between here and that side of the city.”

“There shouldn’t be many,” Ian says. “There haven’t been more than one or two hordes in this place in months.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But you saw what happened here, didn’t you?” The man gestures around him. “There were at least five that followed my sister. Who knows how many more are out there?”

“Ian, can I talk to you for a sec?” Lip asks. He gives Ian a pointed glare before walking a few feet away, out of the stranger’s earshot. Ian casts the man an apologetic glance before following his brother.

“There’s no reason to be such a dick, you know,” Ian comments.

“How do we know we can trust this guy?” Lip crosses his arms over his chest. _“Why_ should we trust him? We’ve got our own shit to deal with. This isn’t our problem.”

“Lip, this is the first time we’ve seen another person in almost a year,” says Ian. “If he needs our help, I’m not just gonna walk away. If the tables were turned, I would want him to help me. Wouldn’t you?”

“That’s not the point. You and I both know trusting other people always ends badly.”

Ian’s gaze softens. “At some point, you’re going to have to move on from that,” he says. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it? I’ve trusted people before. The wrong people. And it almost got us both killed. I’m not about to make that same mistake again.”

“Look,” Ian sighs. “If this guy is right, and there are more walkers out there than we came prepared for, then we need that safe passage out of the city. And if shit goes sideways, we ditch his ass and find that shortcut ourselves. But if he’s telling the truth, and he really does have a sister out there that needs our help, I’m not just gonna leave her to die.”

Lip’s arms fall to his sides in defeat. “You’re a stubborn bastard, you know that? And a damn soft one, too.”

Ian gives him a small smile. He clasps his brother on the shoulder, then turns around and walks back over to where the stranger is now kneeling on the ground, his backpack open in front of him. He’s taken the empty cartridge out of his gun and is rummaging through the pack, though evidently can’t seem to find any more bullets. Ian swings his own pack off his shoulder, pulls out an extra bullet magazine, and hands it to him. The man accepts it cautiously, his blue eyes lingering on Ian’s face for a few moments before he reloads his gun.

“This mean you’re helping?” he asks.

“We find your sister and we get out of here,” Ian says. “That’s it. You try any funny business with us and you’ll regret it. Understand?”

The man zips up his backpack and straps it onto his shoulders. He stands, keeping his gun held out in front of him.

“The deal goes both ways,” he replies. Ian gives a curt nod, and glances over at his brother.

“We should get moving,” Lip says. “Stay close.” Opting to put away his handgun, he gets his rifle in position and heads off toward the empty street. As they follow him, Ian lingers slightly behind the dark-haired man to keep an eye on him.

“I never caught your name,” says Ian.

The man doesn’t look over at him. He keeps his eyes on the path ahead and walks in silence, and for a few moments, Ian figures he probably won’t give them his name. It’s not a big deal – they’ll probably never see each other again after this, anyways. And if this man feels more comfortable remaining a stranger to them, then Ian gets it. In this world, it’s always easier to exist as a ghost, to forego unnecessary attachments to people and remain hidden. It’s one of the only ways to keep yourself completely safe.

But then he says, “It’s Mickey.” And suddenly, this dark-haired, blue-eyed man is no longer a ghost drifting through an empty city, but a man with a name and a purpose, just like Ian. A survivor.

“Good to meet you, Mickey,” Ian replies. Mickey does meet his eyes then, very briefly, but it’s enough for the two young men to establish an understanding. It’s not trust, not quite yet, but more of a temporary pact. Something like: you watch my back, I’ll watch yours, just for as long as we need to.

And so Ian watches Mickey’s back, keeping his senses alert to their surroundings as the three men cross the street into the depths of an infected city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **walker:** undead, limps around really slowly and relies on hearing to find prey but doesn't really attack or lash out unless it gets close enough to a human to do so
> 
>  **runner:** faster and stronger than walkers, also rely on hearing but their attacks seem smarter/more calculated and can usually sense a human from much farther away


	2. Chapter 2

The journey deeper into the city is a quiet one. Tensions are still high between Mickey and the two brothers, because as much as Ian wants to trust this guy, there’s still the fact that he is, in fact, a stranger. This whole thing about his sister could be a total lie, and he could just be trying to rob them or some shit. Ian doesn’t know what Mickey’s ulterior motive would be if he had one. It’s been a long time since he’s crossed paths with another person who wasn’t a member of his own family, but he knows it isn’t really far-fetched to imagine what kind of lengths people will go to in order to survive.

Then again, they all saw the undead back there. Mickey probably wouldn’t have made it out alive if Lip and Ian hadn’t shown up. Not to mention the dark-haired man seems pretty on edge and keeps casting wary glances at the brothers like he doesn’t trust them, either. That’s a good sign. If Mickey seemed a little too comfortable with venturing out into these undead-filled streets with two men he had never met before, then Ian would definitely be more suspicious. 

Lip, who is still openly annoyed with this whole situation, sticks to the front of the group, about a couple yards ahead of Ian and Mickey. Any time they’re about to cross a street or slip down an alleyway, Lip goes out ahead of them to make sure the path is clear before waving them on.

They haven’t encountered any undead since they found Mickey at that grocery store parking lot. Ian has never gone this far out into the city before, and his first impression is how quiet it is. Perhaps a little _too_ quiet. There are no sounds of rats scurrying into the sewers or half-opened doors creaking in the breeze. It’s as if this entire side of the city has been frozen in time, like everything around them has stopped moving and every living thing is holding their breath.

“So where exactly are we going?” Lip asks over his shoulder. “You have any idea where your sister could’ve gone?”

“There’s this old office building,” says Mickey. “We kinda use it as like this, I don’t know, a safehouse or some shit. We meet up there any time we get separated. The front doors are boarded up, so no walkers have ever been able to get inside. We always go in through a window on one of the top floors. There’s a ladder we can use to get up there.”

“And you’re sure she’ll be there?” Ian asks.

“I’m sure. It’s the only place she knows she’d be safe from a horde while she waits for me. And if she’s not there, then, well… we’ve got a problem.”

Ian assesses him carefully. Mickey looks tough, like there isn’t a whole lot that could scare him off. He’s wearing this old flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off over a dirty white tank top, and he’s got a belt secured around his waist that holds an array of weapons. He has a lot of tattoos, even some on his knuckles that spell the words _FUCK U-UP,_ which might intimidate other people, but Ian just quirks a smile. He finds it endearing, somehow. This man is cute in his own way, Ian thinks, but there’s without a doubt this hardened shell around him. His movements are always tense and calculated, his brows knit together in a nearly permanent expression of either irritation or distrust. They only just met each other, but Ian can already sense that Mickey is all closed off and rough around the edges.

And yet, even under all that, Ian can’t help but notice the fear that flashes across Mickey’s eyes any time his sister is mentioned. He’ll gnaw uneasily on his bottom lip and adjust his grip on his gun every so often, like he’s trying to hide the slightest tremble of his hands. 

When you have someone else you’re fighting for, you can’t ever really disguise the fear that surfaces when their safety is threatened. Not completely. Ian’s seen it in his brother and in the rest of his family. He’s seen it in himself.

While Lip goes on ahead to survey the area for walkers, Ian quickens his pace a little so that he’s walking side-by-side with Mickey rather than slightly behind him. Mickey gets visibly uncomfortable when he senses Ian moving closer to him, so Ian respectfully leaves a few feet between their bodies. He tries to meet Mickey’s eyes a few times, but the dark-haired man is evidently not very skilled at maintaining eye contact. He instead keeps his gaze glued to Lip’s back several yards ahead of them.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” Mickey finally asks. The aggressive tone to his voice startles Ian, not necessarily _because_ it’s aggressive, but because Ian wasn’t expecting him to say anything at all.

“Nothing,” Ian says quickly. “I was just… well, actually, if I’m being honest, I was looking at your tattoos. They’re… cool.” He mentally smacks his palm against his face. “Did you get them pre-outbreak?”

Mickey flexes one of his hands to view the tattoos, then glances over at Ian with a perplexed look on his face, like he can’t fathom why the hell this guy is asking about his body art of all things.

“Yeah, it was pre-outbreak,” he says. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

“You must’ve been pretty young, right?” Ian asks. “I mean, the outbreak was ten years ago. I was only fifteen when it happened, and you can’t really be that much older than me, right? Your parents must have kicked your ass when they found out about those.”

“My old man encouraged it, actually. You’d be surprised knowing what kind of hellhole I grew up in.”

Ian smiles a little at that. He grew up on the southside of Chicago and has his own experiences with deadbeat fathers who don’t know shit about parenting. Maybe that’s something he and Mickey could bond over one day, assuming they make it out of this little expedition alive. Then he remembers that making new friends isn’t really in the cards for anyone anymore. No matter how much they might have in common, there’s no way the two of them will stay in touch after this, not when they both have their own families they have to look out for. Ian misses forming connections with people, he really does, but the normalcy of friendship disappeared a long time ago. He doesn’t expect any kind of connection to form between him and Mickey.

That’s why he’s surprised when Mickey asks him a question about his own life after another couple minutes of silence.

“So, you’ve got a niece back home?” he asks. The words leave his mouth carefully, like he’s treading over the dangerous waters of making conversation with a new person. “Is she his kid?” He gestures to Lip, who has stopped walking and is waiting impatiently for the two of them to catch up. Ian hadn’t even noticed how much he and Mickey slowed down when they started talking to each other.

“Nah,” Ian says. “Franny is my sister’s daughter.”

“Well, I’m sure Franny will be okay as long as she’s got her mom with her,” Mickey says. There’s a gentleness to his voice that catches Ian by surprise. He meets Mickey’s eyes for a couple of moments before glancing down at his shoes.

“Her mom passed away,” he says quietly. “About two years ago. Franny was just a baby.”

“Oh, shit, man. I’m sorry.”

There it is again, that ache in Ian’s chest. It reminds him why protecting his family always has been and always will be the most important thing to him, especially since he couldn’t protect his sister. Her name was Debbie, and she had been torn to pieces by walkers before his very eyes. Franny was too young to remember it, but she had been there when it happened, cradled in Ian’s arms as he tried to carry her to safety. He remembers it all. Franny wailing, desperate for her mom. Her loud cries attracting more walkers. Lip shooting down as many as he could, trying to save Debbie, but there was no use, because she was already long gone, a bloodied, mutilated corpse left to become food for walkers. He still remembers the last thing she said before her throat had been ripped out, a helpless cry for her daughter: _“Franny!”_

And then she was gone. It had all happened so fast, and then suddenly she was a mess of blood and bone on the ground, and the only thing Ian could do was run.

He regrets it every day, not being able to help her. There was nothing anyone could have done, but that loss still weighs down on his shoulders, and it’s never gonna go away. He grew up with Debbie, lived under the same roof as her for years before the outbreak. He remembers talking about boys with her when she got her first crush and asked Ian for advice. There were ups and downs, just like with any siblings, but he loved her. Everyone did. She deserved to live on for many more years, raising her sweet daughter and growing old with her family, but her life was taken from her way too soon.

Ian’s purpose since then has been to make sure Franny gets the long life her mother would have wanted for her. 

“She was the first person we lost,” he says quietly. “Well, technically, my dad died a few days after the outbreak, but he was never going to last very long. The rest of us kind of had to make our own way without him.”

“So there’s more of you?” Mickey asks. “Besides you and Lip, I mean?”

“Two brothers, Liam and Carl,” says Ian. “And my sister Fiona. She’s the oldest. She’s been taking care of the rest of us since… god, since even before the whole world went to shit.” He runs his fingers absentmindedly through his red hair, his heart growing warm at the thought of his sister.

“Must be nice,” says Mickey. “To have so many people looking out for you.”

Ian glances at him. “What about you? Is it just you and your sister?”

“Yeah.” Mickey sighs. “It wasn’t at first. I had brothers, a bunch of cousins. Some of them are dead, but a lot of them ran off when this whole thing started. Mandy and I were stuck with our dad for a while. Then shit hit the fan, and now it’s just us.”

Ian doesn’t know if that means his dad is dead or not, and he contemplates offering his condolences, but Mickey doesn’t seem too sad about it. He says it like being apart from his dad and left to fend for himself and his sister is nothing more than a slight inconvenience. 

“I just… she’s all I got now, you know,” says Mickey. “We were never close when we were kids, but she’s family, you know?”

Yeah. Ian knows. “We’ll find her,” he says.

Maybe he shouldn’t say it like a promise. He doesn’t know if they’ll find her. For all he knows, she could be long dead already, or worse. He shouldn’t feel the need to make promises to some guy he just met. Hell, he’s not even under any obligation to be here, helping him.

So why does it feel so important to him?

There isn’t much else to say after that, but Ian feels like the tension between them might’ve lifted, if only slightly. They walk beside each other, still keeping a reasonable amount of distance between them, though Mickey certainly seems less wary of him now. The silence that passes over them isn’t comfortable by any means, but something has definitely shifted.

A few more minutes pass before a sound in the distance shatters the silence. Ian tightens his grip on his gun and listens closely. It’s the sound of a walker, moaning hungrily. No, not just one. It sounds like there are a bunch of them.

Lip comes to a halt and holds out one hand, signaling for Ian and Mickey to stop. They slow down until they’re standing on either side of the older man, who gestures out in front of them without saying a word. Ian’s eyes follow the direction he’s pointing in, and his heart drops when he sees it.

Good news: They found the office building Mickey said his sister would be taking refuge in.

Bad news: A horde of undead is pressing themselves up against the front entrance, desperate to get inside.

“I thought you said there were only like, five of them that followed her?” Ian hisses. There are easily more than five walkers up ahead of them. They’re still too far away for Ian to count them all, but he’d estimate that there are closer to fifteen, maybe twenty.

“There must have been more lingering around this area,” Mickey whispers. “When they see other walkers, they join up with the horde. Strength in numbers or whatever.”

“I know how it works,” Ian deadpans.

“This is still fuckin’ weird,” Lip says. “I mean, I’ve been making runs into the city for the past year, and I’ve never seen this many at once. What the fuck is going on?”

Ian wonders the same thing. Even though neither of them have gone this far out into the city before, it’s odd that they’re coming across so many walkers grouped together at the same time. Especially since the city has been mostly empty for the past year, save for a few stragglers here and there.

“You said there’s a ladder we can use to get inside?” Ian asks quietly. He glances over at Mickey, who nods.

“Near the back of the building,” he says. “If we can just get around these bastards without them hearing us, we can slip inside, get Mandy, and get back out.”

“Well, we’d better get moving,” says Lip.

The three men stick close to each other as they take a longer route around to the back of the building. They’ve all had years of practice at being stealthy, so thankfully the walkers don’t notice that they’re there. Ian’s a little worried at first that Mickey might slip up and give them away – he’s never been in a life-or-death situation with this stranger before, after all – but the dark-haired man is just as quiet as he and Lip are, maybe even quieter. 

Soon enough, they’re out of the walkers’ general vicinity. Ian can still hear them moaning and trying to get through the front entrance, but there are none at the back side of the building, which bodes well for them. As they approach it, Ian spots the ladder Mickey promised would be there, tall enough to reach an opened window on what looks like maybe the fourth or fifth floor.

“I’ll go first,” Mickey says.

“Hell no, man,” Lip retorts, stepping out in front of him. “How do we know you’re not gonna pull some funny business if you go on ahead of us?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Mickey hisses. “If you go up there first and Mandy is in that room, she might not have any idea who the hell you are and shoot you where you stand. Less of a chance of that happening if she sees her brother first, don’t ya think? Unless you wanna take that risk?”

Lip clenches his jaw in frustration, at a loss for how to argue back. Mickey just rolls his eyes and starts climbing up the ladder.

Ian glances at his brother. “You need to calm down,” he whispers.

“Fuck you,” says Lip. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I have a bad fuckin’ feeling about all this.”

Ian looks up to watch as Mickey reaches the top of the ladder and slips through the window. He disappears for a few seconds, then returns and pokes his head and arm outside, gesturing impatiently for Lip and Ian to come up.

“You wanna go, or are you gonna stay down here and pout some more?” Ian asks.

Lip flips him off and starts on his way up the ladder. Once he’s through the window, Ian quickly scans his surroundings to make sure there are still no walkers nearby before following. As he steps onto the first rung, it makes a slight creaking noise beneath his foot, causing him to wince. This thing looks old and rickety, like it could fall apart underneath him at any moment, but he has no time to be extra cautious. He climbs up as quickly as he can, and as soon as he’s at the top, he hauls himself over the window ledge and into the room.

“She’s not here,” Lip announces pointedly, like he believes Mickey’s sister is long dead and this whole trip was a complete waste of time.

“Just not in this room,” says Mickey, narrowing his eyes. “So let’s fuckin’ look for her.”

He walks on ahead of them, moving towards a door that had been left open and leads into a hallway. Ian gives his brother an exhausted look before following Mickey. He glances around at the assortment of upturned office desks and old computers with shattered screens. He has a vague memory of Fiona working at a place like this before the outbreak, selling cups or something. It didn’t last long. None of her jobs did, really. But to be fair, sitting at a desk and answering the phone to sell cups all day doesn’t really seem like the most exciting way to make a living. He wonders briefly if any of the people who worked here are still around; if they miss their dead-end job, or if they’re fighting undead from day to day and thinking, “Well, at least this gives me some sort of purpose.” He can’t decide if he would agree with that mindset or not.

Once they’re outside the room, Ian follows Mickey to an elevator at the end of the corridor. He’s too busy looking around at the old “employee of the month” posters on the wall to notice that Lip isn’t directly behind him anymore – that is, until he hears his brother let out a series of swear words before his voice is immediately muffled. Ian and Mickey spin around to see Lip being held in place by a pretty girl with pale skin and dark hair. She’s got one hand pressed against Lip’s mouth, and the other holding a knife to his throat.

“Let him go!” Ian aims his gun at her. She narrows her eyes.

“Who are you?” she asks. “How do you know about this place?”

“Jesus, Mandy.” Mickey steps out from behind Ian. In the darkness, Mandy likely couldn’t see him and therefore didn’t know it was him, but the sound of his voice causes her to visibly relax.

“Mickey?” She manages to sound heavily annoyed and heavily relieved at the same time. “Why are you with these people?”

“They helped me fight off some runners,” Mickey says.

“A little out of practice, are you?” she teases. Mickey just flips her off.

“Tell her to let my brother go,” Ian snaps.

Mickey rolls his eyes, like he’s not too keen on the idea of hearing Lip open his mouth again. He gives Mandy a little nod, and she releases Lip. He stumbles away from her, his hands moving up to the skin on his neck.

“You cut me, you bitch,” he growls. It’s not a big deal, really, just a tiny streak of blood where she must have nicked him.

“You’ll live,” she says in a bored voice.

Ian squints, eyes adjusting to the dim hallway so he can size this girl up. Now that he’s getting a good look at her, it’s obvious Mandy is Mickey’s sister. They’ve got the same hair color, the same facial structure, and the same constant expression of irritation. She looks younger than Mickey, maybe by a year or two, but she definitely carries herself well. Ian finds himself feeling just as intimidated by her as he was by Mickey at the start, if not a little bit more. In addition to the knife in her hand, she’s got an assortment of more knives and daggers strapped to her belt, all different shapes and sizes, as well as a gun at her hip.

“You know there’s a shit ton of walkers at the front entrance,” Mickey says to his sister, in lieu of a _“hello”_ or a _“I’m glad you’re okay.”_ The lack of outright concern doesn’t seem to bother Mandy. She nods, like she’s ready to just get straight to the situation at hand.

“I lost them pretty soon after I left you,” she says. “Took another route through the city to get here. Somehow, they managed to find me. Showed up with like, fifteen more walkers than before. They’ve been trying to get through that door for the past hour, like they know I’m up here or something. It’s really fucking weird. I’ve never seen undead act this way before.”

Ian and Lip exchange a glance. Runners are typically smarter than walkers in the sense that they tend to track a human down after realizing they’re there, but even if there are a few runners down below, it doesn’t make sense for the entire horde to know exactly where Mandy is, especially if she lost them for a while on the way here. It would make sense if they caught her scent or something, but as far as Ian knows, the undead have only ever been able to use their hearing, nothing else. This is nothing like anything he’s ever seen before.

“Well, we should get going,” Mickey says. He gestures between him, Ian, and Lip. “We were able to get past the horde without them noticing us. Maybe you had a few on your tail the whole time without knowing, or you weren’t being as quiet as you thought.”

“Dick,” says Mandy. “I know what I’m fucking doing.”

“I never said you don’t. I’m just sayin’ you could’ve messed up today, and that’s why the walkers were able to track you. It’s a simple explanation. Now we can make sure it won’t happen again.”

Mandy opens her mouth to argue back, but before she can say anything, a loud banging noise sounds from downstairs, causing them all to jump. They glance around at each other, eyes wide. They hear another bang, and Mandy takes off towards a room at the opposite end of the hallway. Ian, Mickey, and Lip follow her into the room and up to a window that gives them a clear view of the front of the building, where the horde is continuing to press themselves up against the boarded-up entrance. More undead have appeared from the depths of the city, so now there are nearly thirty, or forty – Ian isn’t sure. There are too many to count, but he knows there’s a hell of a lot more than their group of four could take on all by themselves. The growing horde now has enough combined weight to move the wooden boards aside and push the doors from their hinges. Every time they slam into the entrance with enough force, another loud bang sounds through the building. They’re getting close. Soon enough, the doors will break apart and undead will flood this entire place.

“We need to fuckin’ go,” Lip yells out. _“Now.”_

“We’ve gotta get back to the ladder,” Ian says.

There’s a deafening _BAM!_ Ian watches from above as the doors burst open and the horde makes their way into the building, their bloodthirsty moans sounding closer and closer by the second. In a matter of minutes, they’ll be limping up the stairs and filling every nook and cranny of each floor until they find their food for the day.

“I don’t think the ladder’s an option,” Mandy says. “They’re all over the ground floor now. If they hear even the _slightest_ movement as we’re trying to get down—”

“Well, then what do you fucking suggest?” Lip snaps.

“We stay above ground.” She glances at Ian, then at her brother, who already looks like he knows what she has in mind. “I have an idea. Follow me.” She hurries out of the room they’re in and back into the hallway. Ian, Lip, and Mickey all look at each other before following her.

Sticking as close together as possible, their group of four dashes up the next few flights of stairs. Ian moves fast, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Soon enough, they barrel through a door at the top of the last flight of stairs and emerge onto the roof of the office building. A blast of early morning air washes over Ian, and he can see the sun starting to rise in the distance. As soon as they’re all on the roof, Lip slams the door shut, but even with it closed, Ian can still hear the undead. Not only can he hear the muffled sounds of their moaning from within the building, but he hears them outside, too. He glances over the roof and his stomach lurches in fear when he sees that the entire building as been surrounded by undead, as if they’re all just waiting for these silly little humans to attempt their escape.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Ian asks hurriedly.

Mandy points to the building right next to them. “We jump over to there. We stay above ground as long as we can. And once we’ve gotten far enough, we get back down and we run.”

Ian walks over to where she’s pointing. There’s not that big of a gap between this building and the next, so they could all make that jump. It’s about a ten foot drop, so as long as they’re careful, they can make it. They’re gonna have to. There’s no other way.

“Fuck it,” Mickey says. “I’ll go first.” He moves to the edge of the building, then takes a deep breath and backs up a few steps before running and throwing himself over the edge. Ian watches, heart racing, as the dark-haired man soars through the air before landing safely in a tuck on the other roof. He quickly stands and looks up at the rest of them.

“Not that bad,” he calls up. “Come on!”

Ian casts another glance down below as Lip jumps next. Some of the walkers have noticed that they’re on the move, and are slowly migrating towards the other building. However, most of them are still inside the one they just came out of, so as long as they just do what Mandy said, they should be able to get out of here unharmed. 

Mandy easily takes the third jump and lands gracefully, and then it’s Ian’s turn. He shuts his eyes for a few seconds and inhales deeply. He’s never done anything like this before. The adrenaline is still moving through him, but there’s also that fear crawling through the back of his mind, saying _you’re not gonna make it you’re gonna die this is how it ends for you._ He hears something bang against the door leading to the roof, and his eyes fly open. They’re already here.

“Ian, fucking _hurry!”_ Lip yells.

Ian takes a few steps back, copying what Mickey did, then breaks into a run. He leaps over the side of the building, the morning breeze chilling his skin as he soars through the air. For a few moments, he’s _flying,_ and the feeling is almost unreal; and then just like that, he’s on the roof of the building, hitting it knees-first. He definitely lands the most ungracefully out of the four of them, and he can already feel his legs bruising up by the time Lip helps him to his feet.

“That’s not as easy as you two made it look,” Ian grumpily tells Mickey and Mandy.

“If we get out of this alive, maybe I could teach you how to fuckin’ _jump,”_ Mickey says. His voice is light, and he isn’t quite smiling, but this is another one of those moments where he seems softer than he lets on.

“Okay, quit flirting with the new guy,” Mandy says. “We gotta go.” Without another word, she takes off running and jumps to the next building, which is closer and about the same height as the one they’re on now.

A blush creeps across Ian’s cheeks. He glances at Mickey to see his reaction, but dark-haired man is already avoiding his gaze and following quickly behind his sister. Lip just raises an eyebrow at his younger brother, the look on his face a mixture of amusement and exasperation, as if to say, _“Him? Really? That’s what you’re into?”_

Truthfully, Ian doesn’t know if he’s into Mickey or not, but now is really not the time to be worrying about that. He brushes Mandy’s comment to the side and takes the next jump, landing a bit better than before (but still adding a few new bruises to his legs).

And that’s what they do for as long as they can, jumping from roof to roof, until there are no buildings left for them to jump to. They’ve left the undead far enough behind, so they descend the stairs of the building they’re on now, which looks like vaguely like one of those car dealership places he’s seen maybe once in his life. He has a distant memory of his piece of shit father, Frank, bringing him here when he was a kid to scam the people who worked here. It’s crazy to think that Ian might consider taking a day with Frank over the situation he’s in now if he had the choice.

As soon as they reach the ground floor, they burst through the doors and then they just run. Ian’s muscles are starting to ache, and it’s getting harder to breathe, but he doesn’t let himself stop, not until he’s absolutely certain there’s a safe distance between them and the undead.

“Where’s this shortcut you mentioned?” he asks Mickey, after they’ve been running for a few minutes.

“We’re almost there,” Mickey says. “Just stay close to me.”

They run a few more blocks before finally stopping at the side of some random street. It’s completely empty, and Ian looks at Mandy, then at Lip, then back at Mickey, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“What is this?” he asks. “How the hell are we getting out of here?”

Mandy lets out a little snicker, which catches Ian thoroughly by surprise. Mickey just sighs and points at something on the ground.

“There,” he says. “That’s our way out.”

Ian looks at where he’s pointing, and then immediately wishes he hadn’t.

It’s a goddamn sewer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE:** i know the timeline doesn't one hundred percent line up with the actual timeline in shameless. fiona worked at the cup place BEFORE the outbreak, which ian says happened when he was fifteen (and yes, it was the same place where she met mike cup), but in the show ian is closer to 17-18 when that happens (i think? he's 17 for like four seasons tho so idfk). anyway, it's not an issue bc this is an AU but just in case that bothered anyone, there's my explanation for it. just a little bit of time bending lol


End file.
